


The Captain's Cabin

by PlagueClover



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Bodily Functions, Challenge Response, Challenge fic, Fetish, Gay Sex, Historical, Human Sacrifice, Immortality, M/M, Pirates, Romance, Sexual Content, indigenous tribe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 18:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueClover/pseuds/PlagueClover
Summary: (Written for the two challenges: Pirate porn and “Burp” porn.) When Itzcali woke up this morning, he didn't think he’d live to see the sunset. Playing the sacrificial lamb is his price to pay to keep the invading Europeans from slaughtering his tribe. But when a cavalier British pirate shows up, Itzcali’s life is forever changed.





	The Captain's Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I mean… I guess I got ambitious. Smooshed together two monthly prompt challenges from an erotica writer's discord channel (link in my profile): Pirate porn. And ‘burp’ porn. And then I decided not to go the obvious camp route and seriously tried to make it at least a little hot, so… Welp. Here he be.

They came in the dead of night. A ship blazing on the water, alight with swaying lanterns and aggressive laughter that shook through the heavy sea air. 

Itzcali tried to hide his trembling hands behind his back. He’d never seen so many people so pale before, though he’d heard the tales. He’d heard of the destruction and the killing, of the lands razed and the cities fallen. 

But his people were of no cities. They had no lands, no gold for these beasts to pillage. He didn’t understand how boundless greed could be. Why they rowed their little boat ashore, why they marched across the white sands to where his father, the chief stood shaking in his woven robes. 

“English!” One of the white beasts shouted. His pale eyes swept across the crowd of terrified people and his hand rested on the hilt of a curved sword. “Any of you wretched sods know a lick of English?” 

Itzcali knew, but he didn’t dare say it. 

The chief awkwardly stepped forward. He looked at the other men storming down the beach towards them. Just bare, filthy muscle, reeking of brine and sweat. Itzcali could practically see the mites in their ragged hair. 

“You...” The chief paused to choose his words carefully. “Where Charles?”

A smirk twitched across the filthy man’s face. 

He was large. Larger than anyone Itzcali had ever seen. He towered over even the strongest of their village warriors. And so did all his men. He shone under the moonlight. Wiry muscle bound in thread-bare linen, but with a belt buckle of gold and rings on his fingers. Scars littered every inch of exposed, chiseled flesh. Across his eyebrow, down his cheek and splitting the edge of his lips, like someone tried to hack into his face once upon a time. 

Itzcali wondered with a shiver what might have befallen the poor soul who did it. 

“Dead,” the stranger said with a quiet chuckle. He pulled a little roll of leather from his belt and unfurled it to show the chief. “But you’re a smart man, I can sense it. You won’t make the same mistake he did. Tell me what you see here.”

The chief swallowed tensely. He hesitated, but his glance flicked briefly down to the leather. “Map.” 

“A map,” the stranger repeated with a pleased smile. He turned the leather over in his hands. “What is this, anyway? It’s not human skin, is it? You know, we hear so many tales about you people.” 

“We no make.” The chief shook his head and pointed at the jungle at their backs. “Witch make.”

The man tilted his head. “Oh... Then what the fuck use are you to me? I should be talking to that witch.” He slowly pulled the sword from its sheath. 

The chief sent a panicked glance at Itzcali. 

The man paused. His eyes narrowed curiously as they flitted over to Itzcali, then he tilted his head. A slow grin stretched across his arrogant face. He started towards Itzcali. “Hello, sweetheart. And who might you be?” 

Itzcali backed away. His wide eyes darted to the chief. What was he thinking? What kind of coward would deflect their attention like that?

“Aw, he’s shy,” The stranger said and his men laughed. “I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want what’s on this map. Where’s the treasure?”

“There is no treasure,” Itzcali quietly answered. 

The stranger’s grin broadened. He sucked in a slow, hissing breath through his teeth. “Listen to that breathy voice. Like a siren, he sings...” He stepped closer. When Itzcali’s back hit a tree, the stranger moved in quick and close until barely inches remained between them. In a soft, sinister voice, he murmured, “This map is calling you a liar.” 

“You read it wrong,” Itzcali said. 

The stranger barked a laugh. His men roared with surprised guffaws behind him and as it died to titters and chuckles, his gaze drifted down over Itzcali’s frame, from his tattooed, bronze flesh to his beaded skirts. “Okay, why does this skin map lead me to this particular beach if there’s no treasure?”

“Because the man you killed was not interested in treasure.” Itzcali tried to still his trembling behind as fierce a glare as he could muster. 

“What, pray tell, piqued the dead man’s interest?”

Itzcali glared for a moment longer before his gaze faltered. “It was... spiritual.” 

“Oh,” the man glanced curiously down at the tanned skin. “Well then, where might this ‘spiritual’ treasure be?”

“Ritual,” The chief blurted out. The stranger didn’t even bother to look his way, his eyes far too busy flitting around Itzcali’s face. The Chief took a shaky step towards them, but the other pale, large men blocked his way. 

“Ritual for what?” The stranger asked. 

“Live,” chief answered. He waved his hand out towards the sea. “For always.” 

The man finally looked back at him. His eyes burned with greedy amusement. “Immortality? Aye, that does sound worth the trip. Tell me about this ritual, then. How do I become immortal?” 

The tribes people stirred. All eyes locked on Itzcali and they began to quietly chant his name. “Itz-ca-li. Itz-ca-li.” And as they chanted, the chief drew the small ceremonial blade from his robes. 

As the pale strangers all looked at him in turn, Itzcali lowered his gaze to the sand. He breathed a small sigh. 

This was it. When Charles hadn’t shown up, he had thought for a blessed moment that he might live, but he should have known better. The witch had said a man would come to collect. The witch was never wrong. 

“Silly fucking cretins, aren’t they?” The stranger murmured to him. He lifted a hand to run through the black, curly tresses, and as Itzcali’s gaze darted up to those pale, curious eyes, the man smirked. “Tell me. Would you rather die with this superstitious lot, or live with mine?” 

Itzcali’s brows furrowed. The chanting died down. Panic sparked in the eyes of the villagers as they exchanged uncertain glances. 

“No,” the chief shouted. “Must ritual! Charles promised protect!”

“Charles,” the stranger snarled sharply back at him, “is dead!” He pulled away from Itzcali. He stalked across the sand towards the chief to growl in his face, “and I promise you nothing!” 

The chief fell to his knees. He gripped at the strangers trousers. “Please! We give anything!”

“If you had anything to give, I would just take it,” The stranger said with an incredulous laugh. Then he kicked the chief away, turned around, and started for his little boat. He paused halfway there to smirk back at Itzcali and hold out his hand. 

“No,” one of the women gasped. She covered her mouth to hold in a whine. 

Another woman stumbled towards Itzcali, pleading in their mother tongue, but he sidestepped away from the tree and watched in heart broken horror as the woman collapsed, sobbing against the trunk. 

“They’re not even going to help us,” Itzcali told her. “You still want me to die?”

“You don’t understand!” She wailed.

He understood plenty. This wasn’t about Charles. His fate was sealed the first time he caught that witch’s eye. He was nothing but a bargaining chip.

Tears burned at his eyes. He dodged another grabbing, desperate friend, and swept across the beach. Under those glinting, watchful eyes, Itzcali took the pale man’s large hand and climbed onto the boat. 

\--

When the sails unfurled, the loud billow of them catching wind took Itzcali’s breath away. He felt the entire ship groan beneath his feet. For a moment he feared it would snap apart - how was it all holding together? But instead, it cut through the black, glassy water like a shark, fast and quiet. 

He pressed his back to the only wall he could find. Gripped the small wood rail that ran along it, and closed his eyes. It didn’t help. He could feel the sway of the ship reverberate through his bones. It made his knees weak and his broken heart sink. 

Pale eyes met his the moment they opened again. The stranger was in the middle of shouting an order, but just drifted off as his gaze flitted over Itzcali. He was quiet for a moment longer, then he turned to one of his men and said, “Take it from here.” 

He reached out. His large, strong hand gripped Itzcali’s arm. He gave a little squeeze, almost comforting, and pulled Itzcali’s trembling form tightly into his arms, against his scarred chest. 

Together they slipped through a wooden door, into a small, dark room that smelled of cedar. A match was struck. Itzcali felt the heat near his cheek as it flared to life and the strange man carefully lit a lantern that swung over a little wooden table. 

“My first day at sea,” he murmured as he shook the match out, “I spent crying. Until the captain carved me up with his lash.” 

Itzcali swallowed. He gazed at the flickering flame for a moment before he dared look into those ever-watchful pale eyes. “Are you going to lash me?” 

He laughed. “This isn’t that kinda ship. And you’re not crying.” 

“I’ve lost people before.” 

“Aye,” He said with a nod. He lifted a hand and combed his fingers slowly through Itzcali’s hair. “I can see it: the fire in your soul. I’ll make a man out of you soon enough.” 

Itzcali caught his wrist. “I am already a man.” He threw the hand away from him and turned his back to the sound of a surprised laugh. 

“What a relief! I’ll get you on that careening crew first thing in the morning, then!” The man chuckled at his own joke and came up behind Itzcali. Grabbed him around the waist, and when Itzcali yelped, he spun him around and shoved him up against the wall.

Their eyes locked. With every deep, seething inhale Itzcali sucked in, he tasted the hot, smokey flavour of the man’s breath. He felt the heat of it against his nose, the moisture of it. 

The pale man lifted a hand. Captured between his fingers was a little dark vial. He shifted a little closer as he popped the top off with his thumb and a sweet scent wafted from it. 

“Drink this.”

It took every ounce of Itzcali’s willpower to tear his eyes off that steady, heated gaze and look at the thing. “What is it?”

“I think we’re a little beyond distrust at this point, sweetheart.” He pressed the vial to Itzcali’s lips. His eyes glinted with an eagerness and a dark intention. 

Itzcali couldn’t help but shake under that gaze. He could feel the heat blooming in his cheeks. 

He parted his lips. The pale man poured it into his mouth, a warm fuzzy liquid that buzzed across his tongue. He swallowed awkwardly. It burned at his tongue and throat so that he could hardly taste the sweet flavour. 

The pale man just stared, expectantly watching Itzcali’s lips. Like something was about to happen. 

Then Itzcali’s belly began to tingle. His eyes began to widen. He could feel it bubbling deep inside. Was he poisoned? Why would the pale man poison him now, after he saved his life?

“What...” He hiccoughed. His hand clamped over his mouth. “What did you give me?” 

“You sweet little thing,” the pale man purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He dipped his head down to brush his lips over Itzcali’s trembling shoulder. 

Then it happened. Itzcali couldn’t control it. First was a small, quiet burp that popped from his throat. The pale man looked up from his shoulder. His lips quirked in a heated, amused smirk. He pressed his body against Itzcali’s. Brushed his wet lips over Itzcali’s jaw as another small burp escaped. 

“Oh God, yes,” The pale man hissed. 

Itzcali’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. What was happening?

The pale man grabbed his wrists. He was too strong and Itzcali was too startled to fight. Their lips met. He whined against the kiss as a hot tongue delved deep in his mouth. 

He burped again and the pale man moaned. 

The pale man abandoned one wrist to fumble with his belt. He freed up his growing erection and grinded it up against Itzcali’s bare belly. “Do it again!”

“No!” Even as Itzcali refused, his own body throbbed with need. He didn’t understand any of this, but his lust was swelling and pushing up his beaded skirts. 

The pale man let out a hissing breath. He released the other wrist, far too intent on grabbing the back of Itzcali’s thigh and hoisting it up his side as he grinded harder. 

Itzcali moaned. His cock burned with approval. He grabbed at something on the wall for purchase as every rough grind threw off his shaky balance. Long, pale fingers shoved into his mouth, forcing it wide open as a long, chest-shaking belch tore out. 

The pale man growled. He mashed his lips against Itzcali’s, devouring the bubbly heat from his mouth with a brutal hunger. 

He found his way beneath the skirts. He lifted Itzcali up against the wall, throwing his legs over his broad shoulders. Itzcali gasped and grasped at his filthy head of hair as he felt the erection push in. 

Pain seared through him. His legs shook. As it pushed deeper and deeper, he let out a ragged cry that cracked with a sharp belch. 

The ship began to sway. Itzcali shrieked. Nearly knocked the pale man off his feet, but he recovered quick and pushed Itzcali harder against the wall as he began to fuck wildly. 

The spikes of pain spread across Itzcali’s body in chilling ripples. Sweat beaded on his face. He cried out between belches and desperate gasps as he clung for dear life. His whole body squirmed against the onslaught: he could feel it building. Everything felt swollen and hard. He wanted to grab every needy inch but he didn’t dare let go of the pale man’s head. 

They went on for what felt like forever. Until his cries turned to moans. Every spike of pain brought him a little closer, and he needed more. He began to buck along, His nails dug into the pale scalp and bubbly saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth. 

The pale man thrust in as deep as he could go and deeper. As another loud, Earth-shaking belch tore through the air, the pale man roared. Wet heat exploded deep inside. He jerked in over and over as his body snapped stiff and his roar broke into a squeak. 

And with a last burst of energy, he threw Itzcali onto a hard cot and fucked him into it until Itzcali came with two little strained burps and a hot, growing puddle beneath his squirming thighs. 

The pale man slowed. He milked every last drop with a few more lazy thrusts before he finally pulled out. Itzcali laid, gasping and twitching. He could feel it dripping down the cheeks of his ass and he let out a weak little sigh. 

The pale man smirked at him a moment longer before he stepped away and wiped himself off with a stiff black rag. He rolled his shoulders and grabbed the wall briefly through another sway of the ship. 

“Glad you picked me yet?” He found his threadbare pants in a heap on the floor and stepped into them. 

Itzcali let out a shivery breath. Still felt like he was cumming a little. Maybe it was just the shaking. The lingering aftershocks. “What if the others heard us?”

The pale man chuckled. His grin lingered on Itzcali for a few long heartbeats. “God, you’re...” He shook his head. “I can’t find the words.”

“Is it bad?”

“No...” He sucked in a deep breath. He bent over the bed and pressed a kiss to Itzcali’s lips. “I really hope you survive your first battle.”

Itzcali’s brows arched. Was that what they did on this ship? Battle? Battle whom? He pushed himself weakly up on one elbow and said, “I’m immortal. Of course I’ll survive.”

The pale man barked a laugh. “Oh yes, how could I forget? You don’t honestly believe that, do you?”

Itzcali’s lips twitched into a frown. “Yes. I do.”

“Okay. What makes you think you’re immortal? Maybe I’m immortal - I haven’t died yet.”

Itzcali’s huff betrayed his annoyance. He awkwardly sat up. “The witch birthed me on the volcano. I lived from death. It claimed everything I knew. Everyone I loved, and I survived. And that was just the start. Five times, I’ve survived when I should have died. When no one else came out alive.”

Amusement glimmered in the pale eyes. The man was quiet a moment. Then he shrugged, and started for the door. “I wouldn’t talk too loudly about that on this ship. Some of the men might think you cursed.” 

He pulled open the door. 

A shout ripped through the air. “Rogue wave!” 

Men screamed. The pale man took one step outside to look, and panic sparked in his eyes. He doubled back in, started to slam the door, but he was too late. 

The sky-high, crushing wave slammed the ship. 

The end. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> We started a small, supportive chat server for erotica writers. (Fanfiction and original). You're welcome to join us. The link is in my profile.


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